Dear Father, Kind Father
by Deadly-Silver-Kiss
Summary: Ciara Riddle.. Who's her father? Could he really be Tom Riddle, or is that just a rumor? Is she really cruel and uncaring, or is it just a mask? Will Draco come to her rescue when she confides what has happened to her?


The Great Hall doors slung open roughly, banging against the walls. Stalking in, her hips swinging lightly with purpose, a girl with waist-length ebony hair smirked. Her lips were coated with plum purple, and her neon emerald eyes glowed with laughter. Her skin was lightly tanned, but it seemed natural, and not very dark. A black leather corset pulled tightly over her breasts and stomach, giving her a dangerous look. The corset was sleeveless, but still didn't show to much cleavage. Tight leather pants seemed painted onto her long legs, and flared slightly at the bottoms, just enough so that they didn't seem to tight. A large silver ankh (an Egyptian cross for the dead, with a hoop, instead of the top of a Christian cross.) Hung over her breasts, on a neon grass-green chain. Black leather platform boots showed under her pants. Everyone stared in awe as the gorgeous girl stalked up to the front table, standing before Headmaster Dumbledore.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood from his seat, facing me. His wise blue eyes twinkled with mischief, as he looked at me. I turned around, gazing around at all the people. They stared, some with their mouths open, which caused me to chuckle. Then, I caught his eye. A platinum blonde strand of hair hung seductively over his eye, and I couldn't help but smirk at his purposeful allure. His icy bluish-silver eyes held no warmth, but I could see right through them. It was a mask, I knew, for my eyes held that same bored, emotionless, gaze. Turning my gaze back to the old man, I stared, waiting. Finally, he spoke. "Everyone, please greet Ms. Ciara Riddle." Gasps awoke from the crowd, and instantly I was reminded of my heritage.

A spark of regret lit up in her exotic eyes, as I stared. I recognized the name as well, but it was no surprise to hear it. My father, Lucius, spoke it often, continuing to tell him stories of the past, even though he already knew them. Her gaze went to stone and ice, and I knew that she was suddenly angry. Then she spoke, loudly and firmly. She owned the voice of leadership and command, reminding him of a general of the Marines or the Navy, muggle army leaders. "No, I am not Tom Riddle's daughter." She said, and he heard slight disgust, and a pang of anger.

She was enraged. They were disrespecting her father!!! But she couldn't do a thing about it. She could never let anyone know who she really was. But... sometimes, she felt that same disgust and shock with her father. She hated the fact that he had sent her to a wizard's army camp, called Radnum, and that he killed innocent people. But he had been valuable to her studies and talent. She had a knack for maiming and killing, when in battle, and knew perfectly how to defend herself. For that, she was grateful. And he had also taught her almost every spell there was, dark arts and all. So she was intelligent, and capable. Stepping over to the stairs, she walked up to the platform, and sat onto the stool Professer Mcgonnigal had set up. The greying woman sat the worn out brown hat on top of her straight, sleek, hair. The sorting hats voice spoke into her ear. "Why hello!" it began, "Ah... Secrets, slyness, cunning, manipulative, yet sweet and strong.... I know just where to put you!" "SLYTHERIN!!!!!!" it shouted out loud. With numerous clapping from Slytherin, shouts to 'come right over' erupted from several men. She slowly walked over to the wild table, and sat beside the boy she had thought was familiar. "Ciara Riddle," she introduced, holding her hand out. He took it firmly in his grasp, and stated nonchalantly, "Draco Malfoy." At the last name, she whipped her body around to fully face him, and she scowled. She knew his father, and she hated him. He was always sneaking glances at her body, and always brushing up against her when ever he possibly could. Once, he had even offered to escort her to her room, with a less than honorable intention. Yet, her father didn't seem to believe her, strangely enough.

Draco was shocked at the look she gave him when he stated his name. "What?" He asked arrogantly expecting her to apologize. She only frowned, and replied, "Lucius Malfoy. I know him." Draco frowned at her simple explanation. He wanted to know _why_ she didn't seem to like his father. But he'd wait to ask until they were alone. Being 17, and in his final year, Draco was named Head Boy, and, strangely, he didn't know who the Head Girl was. Yesterday had been his first day back to Hogwarts, and he had been escorted to the Head's common room alone. He was shocked, but pleased, when he found out that Hermione Granger wasn't to be Head Girl after all. Standing, Dombledore announced, "Ms. Riddle will be Head Girl this year. I am sorry Ms. Granger, but we hadn't been expecting a new student. Sorry that I could not speak with you in private about this. The wavy haired brunette shot Ciara a cruel look, and Ciara simply gazed at her blankly. For about two minutes, the two girls stared at each other, trying to win the staring contest. But in the end, Hermione looked away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Ciara didn't seem effected by it at all though, as she went back to staring at the world around her. Apparently, she had done that before. Her eyes were so empty and icy, that even Draco couldn't stare her down. She had an iron will to her, she did.

As she arrived to the common room, Ciara stepped up to the painting. "Password?" the tightlipped teenage girl in the painting requested. Ciara snickered in amusement, and stated, "Sorry, I don't know it, but I'm sure you could tell me. I'm Ciara Riddle." The painting gasped at her rude comment, and the way her voice told her she didn't care what the painting thought. "My, my! What an attitude you've got young lady! Really, I hadn't known, you shouldn't blame me like that!" With a scowl, Ciara replied, "You act as if you're 50, and yet you have the appearance of a 15 year old. Pity." Scoffing, the painting opened up, and angrily whispered, "It's genie! There! Now you know!" Thanking her with false kindness, Ciara walking inside, and took a look around. Dark forest green chairs and a couch sat on the silver carpeted floor, and the walls were painted silver with a huge Slytherin badge that took up almost one whole wall. Smiling pleasantly, she let herself plop down upon the couch, and lay her legs across one whole seat. Her feet rested lightly against the arm of the couch, opposite to her head, lying comfortably against the other one.

Draco found himself in front of the angry looking painting. "Genie" he quickly said, before stepped through to the other side. The first thing he saw was a disheveled looking Ciara, strewn about the couch. Her eyes were closed lightly, and her breathing was deep and restful. Smiling gently, he tenderly brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. A sigh emitted from her slightly parted lips. Walking up to his room, he gathered an extra blanket into his arms. When he was back down to the common room, he carefully covered her up, trying not to wake her from her restful slumber. She only preceded to roll onto her other side, and grip the blanket into her arms, uncovering her legs. Chuckling, Draco walked back up to his room, to sleep as well.

The next morning, Ciara found herself in the bathroom, gagging. She felt utterly sick, and suddenly, she remembered her nightmare from the night before. She had been in the dark, strapped to a surface of ice cold water with chains. She had been sinking into the water, and hadn't been able to breath, Thrashing for her life, she tried to undo the chains, but it was to late. Her father stood before her, in the water. He reached down and grabbed her throat. "You disobeyed me, and now you shall die." He had stated, menacingly. Lucius stood on the dry earth, glaring at her with hunger, as well as anger. She had been frightened, and then, she had awoken to a blanket wrapped tightly around her throat, and the sound of running footsteps. Draco had shown up just as she managed to stumble her way to the bathroom. She had been screaming in her sleep, she knew, for he had looked wild and panicked. Finally, after getting a deep, refreshing, breath, she sat upon the floor, and pressed her face against her palms. She had been having these nightmares ever since her father had hit her for the first time. It had been so frightening! She had just come back from Radnum, and had embraced him tightly. Then, she heard him whisper, "Now, you are ready to kill. You will join my forces, lead them, and destroy those filthy mudbloods." He had said it in such a way that it seemed as if he were tenderly telling her he loved her. She had gotten freaked out, and had pulled away, gasping out, "Never! I couldn't ever hurt a muggle-born, just because of that!!! That's terrible! You're terrible!" He had been so angry, that he had backhanded her into the ground. Blood had dripped from her cheek, and she had known he had caught her with his large emerald ring. Her lip had been cracked open as well. Then, stepping forward, he gently asked, "Are you alright, my pet?" She had simply nodded, and then his gaze faltered to one of concern, as her body gave out, and her head hit the ground again. He had hit her to hard. She had been afraid of a concussion, but that was nothing compared to what happened next. "Now, do you care to correct yourself, or shall I?" He had then asked. Quivering, she had replied indignantly, "How could you do such a horrible thing? They're innocent... A-and I'm your daughter! Y-you hit me..." A tear had slid down her suddenly pale cheek, and she had felt sick. Angry again, he had grabbed her roughly by the arm, and pushed her backwards, until she slammed into the wall behind her. "How dare you accuse me of being terrible! How dare you!" Then, he had slammed her body down onto the floor again, her back pressed against the dark-grey, stone, wall. That had been the first time he had ever lost his temper with her. Walking away, he quietly commented, "You see, my pet, I love you, but you must learn to obey me. If violence is the only way to teach you, then so be it."

Sighing, Ciara raised herself from the floor, and opened the door. Standing in front of her was a half naked man. Draco wore only a pair of black silk boxers. Giving her a strange, unreadable, look, he stepped back and allowed her to leave. Finally, he asked, "You alright, love?" Mentally kicking himself, he watched as her expression changed from emptiness to puzzlement. Smirking, he said, "What? To personal for you? Just a nickname, don't get to excited over there. It's not late enough for that." Ciara walked away, rolling her eyes, the hidden meaning not lost on her.

**Author Note: **Sorry if this story doesn't get updated very often, but I'm also working on another story. I'll try to update every day or two, but no promises. Sorry! Anyway, please review if it's not out of your way, because I would truly love to know what everyone thinks! Constructive criticism welcome, so that I can fix up anything I do wrong! Thank you very much!


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